


First Kills

by Skarmoree



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 5+1 Fic, Basically Shiro helps them all through the trauma, But it’s only 4+1, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Shiro (Voltron)-centric, but yknow I don't even have to tag that anymore we all know this right?, death mention, inconsistent updates as always, most of this is within s1, so this is LAAAATE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-03-23 09:02:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13784175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skarmoree/pseuds/Skarmoree
Summary: Taking a life is hard, no matter the circumstance. The first kill is always the hardest.Each paladin reacts in a different way to those they have killed - they had no choice, it was an accident, they were helpless in the situation.Shiro knows how it feels, and helps them through.





	1. Pidge

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo, new series! (I say series when I mean multichap, and I say new when I mean the first part was published on wattpad back in September 2017)

Haxus was the enemy.

Pidge knew this. She did.

Yet Haxus was still someone's family. Someone's son, someone's grandchild. Perhaps he even had a child himself, who would grow up never knowing their father.

Haxus was the enemy.

Haxus had tried to stop Pidge from saving her team.

Haxus had to be defeated.

All of this was true, yet Pidge still curled herself into the smallest ball possible on the floor of the infirmary, pretending none of it had happened. The entire team had set up camp, waiting for the moment that Lance would step out of the pods.

Pidge wished Lance wasn't in the pod. She wished Sendak and Haxus hadn't set a bomb. In a bright flash of anger, Pidge wished he hadn't jumped in the way to protect Coran.

Immediately, the thought was followed by a rush of cold guilt, and she buried her head in her arms, throat and eyes burning.

Pidge could really do with one of Lance's stupid remarks to lighten the mood right about now.

And a hug

She could always go to Hunk, but he would ask her what was wrong.

She wasn't ready to talk about it.

Pidge had killed Haxus, taken a life. She was the reason that a family would never see their kin again.

Why did she have to kill him?

Pidge had her laptop in front of her, focused intently on a line of code that hadn't been touched in hours. It was all part of her façade. She was fine.

"Hey, I'm going to go make some food, you guys want any?" Hunk asked, getting up from his seat.

"I'll go with you," Shiro offered. Allura and Coran's sounds of agreement came a moment later.

"What about you, Keith? Pidge?"

Keith tore his eyes away from Lance's pod, arms firmly crossed over his chest. "Yeah... I guess I should come with you guys." He said quietly, turning on his heel and half-jogging to catch up to the rest of the team.

"Pidge?" Hunk said by the door, looking over his shoulder. "You coming?"

"I think I'll stay here..." she said, refusing to look up and meet anybody's eyes. "Somebody's got to keep an eye on Lance, in case he comes out, right?" she tacked hastily to the end, masking her own intentions.

Nobody had to know what she'd done.

"Right." Shiro agreed, and from the corner of Pidge's eye she saw him nod in understanding. "Don't hesitate to call us down if he's out."

With those words, Pidge was left in the silence, save the periodic beep of the healing pod.  
  


The door opened with a hiss, letting someone inside the infirmary.

Pidge didn't bother to look up, knowing who it was from the gait alone.

It wasn't Keith – the footsteps were too heavy to be his, and it wasn't Hunk – he tended to shuffle.

Obviously it wasn't Lance.

Coran tended to have more of a bounce, and Allura's shoes made a distinctly different noise on the metal of the floor.

Shiro.

"Hey Pidge, I brought you some food," Shiro said, sitting down next to her and handing her the plate. "Thought you might be hungry."

"Thanks," Pidge replied, staring down at the plate for a moment before placing it beside her with a sigh. "I'll eat it later, I promise."

It was silent for a moment, the absence of Rover's quiet beeping obvious to Pidge, and apparently to Shiro.

"I've been meaning to ask, where's Rover?"

"He-He—" Pidge took a steadying breath, closing her eyes for a moment.

"He didn't make it through the- the battle." she finished, hoping that Shiro would leave it at that.

She had no such luck.

"Well, let's go get him!" he said cheerfully, already moving to stand up. "I'm sure you'll be able to get him back into working order in no time."

She didn't want to get Rover. That would mean seeing Haxus, and Shiro finding out what she had done.

" _No_!" She cried desperately, scrambling to her feet in a weak attempt to stop Shiro. He looked down at her in confusion. "I- I mean, no, no, it's fine."

"Katie?" Shiro frowned, and Pidge flinched slightly when he used her real name. Obviously he wanted answers. "What is it?"

Pidge never got the chance to answer, the Castle comms crackling to life.

"Paladins, report to the bridge immediately, a Galran body signature has been detected on the ship." Allura's voice rang out.

"Tell me later," Shiro said, getting ready to leave.

"No Shiro—"

It was too late. He was already gone. Seeing no other choice, Pidge ran after him.

Regardless of what happened, she was still a Paladin, whether she liked it or not.  
  


"That's Sendak's lieutenant, Haxus." Keith identified first, staring down at the crumpled body in front of the team. Limbs stuck out at odd angles, his eyes dull and staring blankly above them all as a slight trickle of blood oozed from his mouth. "Or at least, it was." He completed with a small shudder.

Pidge leaned heavily on the wall behind her, eyes unable to leave the broken form of Haxus. She clamped a hand down over her mouth, trying not to scream or sob, afraid of which one would force itself from her body.

She had done this. She had killed him.

"But how?" Coran mused.

Pidge dropped to her knees with a thud, vision blurring into a mess of colours.

"Pidge!"

She tried to hold on to Hunk's shout, she tried to anchor herself with it. The others let out their own cries of concern, the words lost to Pidge.

"Are you okay?"

"Number five—"

"Hey, Pidge—"

Strong arms – one flesh, one metal – lifted Pidge from the ground, wrapping protectively around her.

"Shiro?" Keith whispered, pulling a hunk of crushed metal out from under Haxus. Shiro held Pidge tight, but it was already too late – she had seen.

_Rover._

"Oh, Pidge." Shiro whispered, rubbing soothing circles into her back. She buried her face into his chest, hands clutching at the fabric of his vest.

"Hunk, Keith, can you go check up on Lance?" Shiro addressed the other two paladins, sharing a silent conversation with them.

They nodded, departing in silence. Coran and Allura followed, leaving Shiro alone with Pidge.

"Hey, Katie?" Shiro started gently, slowly prising her hands from his back so he could meet her eyes. She avoided him, and he sighed.

"Look at me, please?"

She was slow at first, scared by what she might see, but eventually she raised her gaze to meet his. Shiro's eyes held nothing but warmth and understanding, and Pidge could  _breathe._

"Listen, you did the right thing." Shiro started, and before Pidge could protest, he continued: "I know it doesn't seem like it, but you stopped the ship from being taken today. Imagine how many people would have died if Zarkon had gotten the Lions."

Pidge sniffled, wiping her nose on her sleeve.

"Does it get easier?"

A strange look passed over Shiro's face, and she regretted her question.

When he answered, his voice was soft, and Pidge had to strain slightly to hear.

"No, it doesn't," Shiro said, brushing her hair from her forehead. "But you find your reasons for killing and you stick to them."

"So..." She broke off, voice too thick to continue. "So what's your reason?"

Pidge wondered if it was too personal of a question, but Shiro looked thoughtful for a moment.

"To get stronger. So I can protect everyone, and not lose those I care about."

Pidge nodded, finally finding true comfort in their leader's arms as she understood just a tiny bit more about him. He continued to hold her tight, waiting until Pidge was ready to let go.

"I'll try. I'll get stronger."

Shiro smiled warmly, hand firm on her back as they left the room, not daring to look back.

"That's all I can ask."


	2. Hunk

Spicier.

Hunk added another spoonful of a red powder to the concoction that bubbled in front of him. The bubbles popping released steam at periodic intervals, curling upwards to the ceiling. Hunk stirred absentmindedly, only half paying attention to what was going on around him. His mind was elsewhere, trapped within its own prison.

He lifted the spoon, running his finger along the edge and having a taste.

It didn't burn enough.

Spicier.

Hunk ignored the sweat that was building up on his forehead, merely shaking his fringe out of his eyes as he added yet another spoonful of spice. He needed it to burn. Maybe then he could feel something.

His fringe fell into his face again, and he sighed, setting down the spice so he could retie his headband. His hair caught in the knot, the sharp tug accompanying it tearing them from his scalp. Hunk winced, but didn't say anything. Instead, he sighed, leaning on the bench and drumming his fingers along the edge.

Apparently he was drumming too hard, as the bottle of spice toppled over, spilling all over the bench. Hunk panicked, scooping up the bottle.

Too fast.

It flew from his hand, and Hunk could only watch in frozen horror as it landed right in the pot, immediately engulfing the bench in flames.

"Shit!" Shiro shrieked, jumping into action and dragging Hunk out of the way. Hunk hadn't even seen Shiro in the kitchen. Had he been there the entire time?

Shiro grabbed the nearest rag, smothering the flames as best he could. "Hunk, come help!" he yelped, patting it down and skirting around Hunk to find another rag.

"O-oh, right." Hunk said, shaking himself into action and snatching up the lid to the pot, dropping it quickly over the flames.

Hunk stared at the ruined bench through the haze of smoke, mind already flitting to someplace else.

Maybe it would be hot enough now?

Hesitantly, he pulled the lid off the pot, wrinkling his nose at the black sludge now coating the inside of it.

Shiro just sighed, lifting up the now ruined rag and shaking his head. A sheen of sweat was visible on his forehead, reminding Hunk of his own. He reached up to wipe it off, flinching back as pain shot through the back of his hand. He drew back, staring blankly at a red patch spanning from his knuckles to partway up his forearm.

Oh.

He pressed down gently on it, gasping involuntarily at the stinging sensation it caused.

He had been burned.

He pressed harder, relishing in the feeling of feeling something. Anything had to be better than the emptiness he currently felt.

He deserved this pain. It was nothing to the pain he had caused the Balmerans.

Maybe he could atone this way.

Something wet dropped onto his hand, stinging against the burn not hidden in his vice-like grip. That something was followed by another drop, and Hunk slowly came to the realisation that he was crying.

If he was crying, why couldn't he feel anything?

"Hunk!" Shiro said, worry filling his tone. "What is it? Did you get hurt?"

Hunk tried to answer Shiro, tried to lift his head - tried to do anything. But the floor held his attention, shadows flickering across his vision as everything blurred into streaks of light and colour.

Women.

Men.

Children.

Entire  _families._

All gone.

"Hunk?"

Shiro was closer now, and Hunk managed to raise his head a little. He blinked, trying to clear the tears clinging to his lashes, but it only succeeded in making them fall onto the burn, causing a tiny wince with each drop.

Shiro's eyes flickered downward, to where Hunk still held his own arm in the tightest grip he could manage.

"We need to get you a heali--"

Hunk was shaking his head before Shiro could finish his sentence. It was the healing pods that had caused this mess in the first place.

If the Balmeran crystal hadn't been destroyed when the bomb went off, then they wouldn't have needed to go there to get a new one so the healing pods would work.

He wouldn't have met Shay and seen the plight of her people, wanting to help them in any way he could, bringing Voltron back with him to save them.

If only they hadn't landed on the Balmera, Voltron would never have needed to fight the stupid robeast and the planet wouldn't have began to crumble as the Balmera was dying.

If they had been a little faster -  _just a little faster_  - the Balmerans wouldn't have been crushed and he wouldn't feel empty and he wouldn't have started a fire and then he wouldn't have been burnt and then Shiro wouldn't be coddling him like a child.

He wouldn't be finding himself sitting on the floor of the kitchen crying as Shiro tried to bring him back from the verge of a panic attack.

"Hunk, come on, are you okay?" Shiro was saying, squatting down so he was at eye level. Hunk barely registered the words, but when he did he nearly began laughing deliriously. Who asked someone clearly panicking if they were okay?

But Hunk knew Shiro. He knew that he probably felt the same things as he did right now, all the time.

Shiro could help.

"Hunk, buddy you need to breathe. You can do it with me, right?"

Hunk slowly nodded, realising he was shaking like a leaf.

"Okay, ready? In, hold... out. In, hold... out."

Together, they repeated the process until Hunk's chest didn't feel so tight, trying to crush his own lungs.

"Feel better?"

Hunk shrugged, and Shiro rose to his full height, extending his right hand to him.

Hunk took it, allowing himself to be pulled up, offering a weak smile to Shiro in return.

"Come on," Shiro said, a gentle hand rested on Hunk's shoulder and turning him towards the door. "It'll be easier to relax in the lounge - I always find myself in there when I need peace."

Hunk nodded hesitantly, allowing himself to be lead out of the kitchen and make the slow trek to the lounge. His feet felt as heavy as his heart, one slow beat at a time, whether it was his footsteps or his pulse.

Once in the lounge, Hunk immediately dropped onto the couch, slinking down and clutching his injury to his chest.

Shiro sat down nearby, giving him much-needed space.

"You do know we have to treat that." Shiro said gently, nodding towards Hunk's burn.

"I know, I know..." he murmured. "But the pain's fine for now."

_It's less than theirs._

"Less than whose?" Shiro asked gently, and Hunk startled, horrified. He'd said that out loud.

"The- the uhh- the- I mean, it's nothing, really, don't worry about it I--"

"Hunk," Shiro cut off sternly, yet his tone wasn't harsh. "I'm here to help. You can talk to me, right?"

"R-right."

"So please-" he shifted closer, leaving himself open to Hunk as best he could. "Tell me what's going on."

"I- really don't think I can..." he began, pressing down on his burn.

Shiro calmly reached forwards, placing his hands on top of Hunk's. He waited for Hunk to meet his eyes before speaking. "Take your time. I'm not going to force you to tell me. All I want is to know why you are feeling this way and if there is a way I can help."

Slowly, he pulled Hunk's hands apart, holding each one firmly. It worked as both an anchor and a distraction, making sure he didn't hurt himself.

So they sat in silence, Hunk deliberating over how to word his thoughts to the older paladin. Shiro was patient, simply content with waiting.

"The-" Hunk started, only to shut his mouth and shake his head.

"It's okay, Hunk." Shiro said. "It's just us here, and you know I won't tell anyone unless you want me to."

Hunk gave a tiny smile, before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

"The Balmerans." he said, opening his eyes again and holding Shiro's gaze unflinchingly. "So many innocents are dead because I was too late, and I couldn't save them. It's my fault that families have been torn apart, and that the Galra did this to them and--" he stopped, taking a shuddering breath.

"It's all because of me."

The tears had started again, leaving hot tracks down Hunk's face.

"Hunk, don't think that, okay? It's not your fault, you can stop--"

Hunk threw himself to his feet, tearing his hands from Shiro's grip.

"No! I won't stop! People died because of me - innocent people who had no right to die!"

"I know how it feels, Hunk, I do - but you can't blame yourself for what happened on the Balmera - none of us could control that, and we saved as many as we could."

Hunk screamed, burying his head in his hands, and somewhere on the ship three paladins turned their head.

"Hunk," Shiro's voice was infuriatingly level, as if he wasn't shocked at how Hunk was handling the situation. "Slowly. Breathe. Calm--"

"Don't you  _dare_ tell me to calm down!" Hunk yelled, ignoring how the tears were streaming, how his throat was dry, how his words were thick and his head and heart hurt. "I killed people today for the sake of a single world! A single person! Because I couldn't let one girl die over the lives of  _countless others!"_

He gave another wordless yell, tearing a cushion from the couch and throwing it as hard as he could.

"And I'll have to do that again and again  _and again_ until the impossible happens and we somehow manage to pull our asses together and defeat the most powerful guy in the fucking universe!"

He kicked the cushion, sending it flying again. "And you tell me to calm down?"

And still Shiro sat on the couch, not having moved an inch.

"Stop it! You're just watching me! You aren't helping, you aren't fighting against me or  _for_ me or anything! How can you just  _sit-_ there- and and and- how can you- you..." he sniffled, wiping his nose on the back of his uninjured hand. "How can you look at me and not hate me?"

Hunk sank to the floor, all anger having faded and leaving a dull, empty feeling. He rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hand, avoiding Shiro's gaze.

"I could never hate you, Hunk." Shiro said softly, making his way over next to Hunk and sitting beside him. He hesitated for a moment, before he wrapped an arm around him, giving his upper arm a comforting squeeze. "You are the kindest person I know, with the biggest heart and purest soul. You didn't mean for anyone to die - none of us did."

Hunk swiped at his eyes again. "But you--"

"Don't get to blame yourself." Shiro said firmly. "Sometimes we make difficult choices - sometimes they're the wrong ones. But you have to keep moving forwards."

Hunk let out a quiet sob, turning to bury his face in Shiro's shoulder. Shiro put his other arm around him, hugging him as he cried.

The door slid open and footsteps thundered behind the pair.

"Hunk--" a red-faced Lance began, skidding to a halt as he took in the scene before him. He immediately dropped down, throwing his arms around his best friend and murmuring soft words to him.

Pidge and Keith hovered uncertainly beside the door, trying their best not to look awkward.

"You can go, if you want," Lance said, and Shiro hesitated. "I've got this - I know Hunk, alright?"

Trusting Lance, Shiro pulled away, giving Hunk a reassuring smile. He returned it, albeit watery, before Lance was swooping in, checking over Hunk and making sure he was okay. Shiro didn't fail to notice that even Lance left some distance between them, Hunk seeming grateful for it.

Shiro moved past Keith, nodding to Pidge when she gave him a questioning look. She returned the nod in understanding before moving to walk in stride with him, Keith doing the same.

Back in the kitchen, they got to work cleaning up the ashen pot of has-been food. Neither of the two younger paladins questioned it, but they already knew.

Hunk would not be cooking dinner tonight.

It was the least they could do for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is so long in comparison to last chapter whoops


	3. Keith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they just keep getting longerrrrrr

Turn.

Swing.

Kill.

Repeat.

Keith shook the hair out of his eyes, resuming his stance as another faceless Galra stepped forward to challenge him. Taking in the hulking figure, he darted forward, swinging his bayard and cleaving the enemy's head from his shoulders, killing him instantly. He wasted no time, moving on to the next Galra.

Turn.

Swing.

Kill.

Repeat.

He did it again, flashes of blurry faces assaulting his vision as he mowed down one Galra after another. He didn't take time to pause, slashing in repeated motions.

The next Galra exploded into crystals of light, bursting apart as he cleaved them in two. The battle ship around him morphed into the training deck, a new gladiator dropping from the ceiling to replace the one he had just beaten.

He spun on his heels, letting it fly past him in an initial attack. At the last second he jabbed directly into its back, impaling the gladiator directly through where the heart would be in a human. Once again, it burst into a series of light and Keith took up his stance once more.

There wasn't time to think in the tiny gaps in the onslaught. It was just a set of moves, over and over again, drumming into Keith's skull.

Turn.

Swing.

Kill.

Repeat.

The training deck morphed to the back seat of a car, driving through the streets of a town. He was strapped into a booster seat, watching the other cars on the street pass by.

Someone poked his arm, and he made a grumpy noise, twisting to glare at his foster brother. The boy pretended not to have anything to do with it, and Keith frowned, looking out the window again.

Another poke to the arm.

"Stop!" Keith whined, pushing the other boy back in his seat.

"Leave Keith alone, now." His foster mum said from the driver's seat, glancing back at them in the rear view mirror. "He's still sleepy, let him rest."

The boy grumbled a little under his breath, but did as he was told.

Turn.

Swing.

Kill.

Repeat.

His vision was clear for a moment - another gladiator in the combat simulator, another slash. Keith pivoted on one foot, easily avoiding the next attack. Then, he was back in the booster seat.

"Keeeeiiith!" The boy next to him was poking him again.

Fed up, Keith turned and swung a fist into the other boy's face.

Keith knew what came next, the vision tattooed on the back of his eyelids whenever he closed them.

"What did I just say?" The voice was exasperated, tired, as his foster mum turned to look at them in the back seat.

The traffic light ahead turned red.

Keith wasn't sure if the blur of his vision was tears or anger, and he missed an attack at the gladiator, receiving a smack to the shoulder for his efforts. He grunted, stabbing upwards.

The rest of the vision - memory - nightmare - was in fragments. An overwhelming screech, a scream. The unholy sound of glass shattering and metal folding in on itself.

Keith had been safe in his booster seat, receiving only a few cuts and bruises here and there.

The boy - the name still escaped him - was mostly okay, with a broken arm and a welt where the seatbelt had held him back.

His foster mum hadn't been so lucky.

Turn.

Swing.

Kill.

Repeat.

Keith let out a wordless yell, swinging blindly as the next gladiator dropped from the ceiling.

"Keith?"

The sound of his own name broke through his thoughts, causing him to stumble back, bayard disappearing back into its hilt. "End training sequence!" he yelped, swivelling to face the source of the voice. Behind him, the simulator deactivated, milliseconds away from hitting him.

Keith's chest was heaving, sweat running down his back.

Shiro looked tired, hand still resting on the doorway beside him.

"You were missing at dinner." Shiro said, stepping into the training room.

Keith forced his emotions down, trying to remain neutral. "Huh, really? I must've gotten carried away training..." he let out an awkward laugh that fell dead around their ears. Even at a distance, he could see the flicker of worry in Shiro's eyes.

"It's been nearly four hours since then."

Keith winced.

"And you've been in here since this morning." Shiro's voice wasn't accusing or harsh, and the statement had questions hidden between the words. "Come on, you need to eat something with all this energy you're putting out."

Keith pushed hair out of his face, turning his head to the side so he didn't have to look at Shiro. "I'm-" he wanted to say he was fine, but the words stuck in his throat.

Instead, Keith pushed past Shiro. "I need some time to think." he ended up saying half-heartedly.

In truth, all he wanted was for Shiro to continue to press for answers, just so he could get it off his chest.  
  
  


He found himself staring down at a bowl of food goo, having not touched it since he set it down on the table. The spork in Keith's hand slipped out of his grip, clattering against the table and bringing him out of his stupor.

The memory of the crash continued to play in his mind, over and over.

Turn.

Swing.

Kill.

Repeat.

Keith picked up his spork again, jabbing at the food goo in front of him. It was the same as it has always been, and he wasn't sure if he should be impressed by the longevity or disgusted.

He was still getting nowhere with actually eating, so he pushed it away, slouching back in his chair.

"Keith, hey,"

Keith turned his head at the sound of his name, giving a tiny nod as Shiro approached.

Turn.

"I didn't want to force you to talk before," he started, and Keith watched as he swung the chair around so it faced the wrong way, sitting with his chin resting on the back.

Swing.

"But I think you really want to talk, but don't know how to start. Is that right?"

Keith folded his arms, ducking his head in a defeated nod. He should have known it was impossible to hide anything from Shiro.

But Shiro was right - he wasn't really sure what to say.

"You can trust me, Keith," he pressed gently, "Nothing you say will leave this room."

He could hear the sincerity in his voice, and took a long breath. With three false starts, he shook his head.

"Take your time, I can wait."

Keith grimaced. "Would it kill you to stop being so selfless?"

Kill.

It was a never ending cycle, even out of battle. No matter where he went, no matter what he was doing, those four words played on repeat in his head. Never ceasing, never pausing. A constant inescapable reminder. It would happen again. It always did.

Repeat.

Shiro gave a brief chuckle. "Maybe so," he said "But if talking is going to help you, I may as well be the one - I know you wouldn't be quite so open with the rest of the team."

"Sometimes I hate that you know me so well."

Shiro shifted in his seat, folding his arms on top of it. "So then, it's-?" he left the question open, not even having to complete it for Keith to know what he wanted to ask.

"Y-yeah."

Shiro's silence was telling, and Keith broke it before he backed out in cowardice.

"Constantly - it's always the same. Turn, swing--"

"Kill, repeat." Shiro completed quietly. "When did it start up again?"

Keith chewed his bottom lip, bringing one foot up to rest on his chair. "Two nights ago." he said, and Shiro frowned.

"Keith..."

"I know, I know, I should have- I didn't- you-" The words weren't coming, so Keith clamped his mouth shut, resting his cheek on his knee.

In front of his vision swam images - blurry faces of Galra morphing between the plain featureless gladiator and the gentle face of his first foster mother.

Turn.

Swing.

Kill.

Repeat.

Always the same.

A warm hand touched his arm, and Keith jerked back to reality to find Shiro's face inches from his own, the man having moved so he was kneeling in front of Keith.

"Keith, come back, back to now." he said gently, and Keith moved so he was gripping Shiro's hand in his own. He lowered his leg back down to the ground slowly, trying to make his body language a little more open to his team leader and closest friend. It worked, judging by the tiny curl at the corner of Shiro's mouth. "C'mere." he whispered, pulling Keith into a loose, one-armed embrace.

Keith tried to hold himself together - he really did - but he felt himself break down, and wrapped both arms around Shiro, hugging him tight. A tear slipped from his eye and trailed down his nose as he buried his face in Shiro's shoulder, and the dam broke.

Shiro knew Keith well enough to know that he was a silent crier, with the only tell being the uncontrollable shaking of his shoulders. "You know it's not your fault, Keith;" he whispered, bringing his other arm up to hug him fully. "Don't blame yourself for what happened."

Keith shook his head against Shiro's shoulder. "I don't-" he managed, words muffled. "But sometimes-"

He didn't continue, holding in a near-silent sob. Shiro hugged him tighter. "Let it out, go on."

It was several minutes before Keith had composed himself enough to talk again, resting his forehead on Shiro's shoulder. He sniffled, pulling out of the hug for a moment to wipe his nose on the back of his hand.

"It's been so long since the last time- I--"

"Thought it was over?"

Keith nodded, still not moving from Shiro's shoulder.

"I know you hate it Keith, but I don't think it will ever be over."

Keith pulled away, brow furrowing.

"Let me finish," Shiro said calmly. "It might never be over - it's something that will stick with you your entire life, whether you like it or not."

Keith scoffed - or at least tried to, the noise getting caught in his throat.

"But that doesn't mean you can't get better."

"You've told me this before..." Keith mumbled, reaching up to swipe at his nose again.

"I meant it back then," Shiro said, rubbing at the back of his neck with his left hand, staring down at his right. "But now I guess I have experience to speak from." he closed his prosthetic hand into a fist, looking up at Keith. "I mean, I've got this with me for the rest of my life, don't I?"

Keith found himself chewing his bottom lip again, silent.

"So come on, you know what I'm going to say next."

"Shiro, I--"

"What are your reasons, Keith?"

He shook his head, the burning feeling returning to his eyes. He blinked the forming tears away, averting his gaze from Shiro's.

"I need to hear you say them." Shiro murmured, and Keith ducked back in to hug him again.

"Heritage." he managed around the lump in his throat. Saying one word made the others flow easier, replacing the old, hurting words with newer ones. His motives. Why Keith had to stay strong. "Earth. Strength. Team."

He could hear the amused rumble in Shiro's chest. "Team? That's a new one."

Keith snorted. "You know what I replaced."

"Space." It wasn't a question. "But we're already out here so--"

"Yeah." Keith leaned back a little so he could look up at Shiro. "And now I have you guys."

Heritage.

Keith was still looking for his family. Where he came from. His mother.

Earth.

They were the universe's protectors. He had people back home to fight for - his foster parents, his foster sister and her little baby. An entire planet of people, some like him, others not.

Strength.

For Voltron. For the universe. For himself. He would get stronger, so he could protect those he cared about.

Team.

For Coran - who sat with him at night when he couldn't sleep.   
For Allura - who was doing everything in her power to keep him alive and sane to see the end of the war.   
For Pidge - who drew his mind away from it all with talk of science and magic, the technological and the paranormal.   
For Hunk - who was never too busy to talk, or even to just sit with in companionable silence.   
For Lance - who tried his best to keep the team upbeat even during the darkest of times.   
For Shiro - in times like this, when they both needed a shoulder for support, or just someone to confide in.

These were his reasons for fighting, and he would repeat them over and over until the other words were drowned out, until they were forgotten to the darkness and replaced by the light.

Heritage.

Earth.

Strength.

Team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah it's been a while since i updated anything, sorry! We're trying to get a chapter out for at least something else soon!


	4. Lance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I’m in the airport waiting for my flight to America lol
> 
> Anyways just a thing to note: both authors are white, so if we did anything wrong with Lance’s story, don’t hesitate to call us out! Nothing is meant to be wrong or interpreted as bad, but if it is, let us know!!

Lance shivered, blanket wrapped around his shoulders as he sat upright in bed, waiting.

Shiro would wake up soon, and Lance could maybe join him in a workout. He knew the team leader generally went for a jog through the Castle first thing in the morning (or well, cycle), he had heard him sometimes when he was awake at the right time.

Until then, Lance sat in the darkness, alone with his thoughts.

Perhaps if he had been stronger back then...

Lance let the thought trail off, pulling his blanket tighter.

He couldn't afford to think like that. Not this long after it had happened. He couldn't change the past.

Lance was nearly drifting back off to sleep when he heard the telltale thuds of footsteps down the hallway outside, startling him back into full awareness. He slid off his bed quickly, throwing on his flight suit and hastily opening his door.

He was met with a dumbfounded Shiro in full Paladin armour, who had stopped mid-step as Lance's door slid open.

"Lance? Are you alright?" Shiro looked at him up and down, concern flickering over his face. Lance gave a half smile, reaching for his boots.

"All good," he said, balancing on one leg and pulling his boot on. "Mind if I join you?"

Shiro nodded, smile spreading over his face. "Sure, but I'm not holding back for you to catch up."

"Wasn't expecting you to." Lance replied, tugging on his other boot.

"Good." Shiro laughed, giving Lance a lighthearted slap on the shoulder. Before Lance could blink, Shiro took off down the hall in a dead sprint.

"Whoa, wait up!"

"I said I wouldn't!" Shiro called back, amusement clear in his voice.

* * *

 

Lance decided he was never working out with Shiro again. The man was a beast, never seeming to need a break as he completed one thing after another. Lance's legs felt like jelly as he slowly paced the lounge, having been told off by Shiro for going to sit down without a cooldown first.

Maybe it was a good thing. Lance was sure that if he sat down now, he wouldn't be able to move again.

Lance was tempting fate, he realised, as soon as the Castle alarms started blaring. He groaned quietly, cursing the adrenaline already running through his veins as he ran for his Lion.

He and Shiro only had to wait another minute or so for the other paladins to meet up by the nose of the Castle - their reaction times had improved immensely.

"It doesn't appear to be the Galra," Allura informed them, reading information from the screen to her side. She navigated the data with ease, reading through it quickly. "They seem to be neutral - mercenaries or pirates."

"Neutral because we're not paying them or neutral because we're in their space?" Pidge asked.

"I guess we'll find out." Keith replied, and the five of them sprung into action.

Lance found himself wincing in sympathy for the pirates. They had simply chosen an unassuming spaceship to pillage, only to come up against the most powerful weapon in the known universe.

Still, he did admire that they didn't turn tail as soon as they saw the Lions.

 

The battle in the sky was quickly over, if one could even refer to it as a battle. Lance thought it was more of a skirmish, because after all, they were up against a group of unorganised pirates.

But it soon fell onto a planet's surface, weaving in and out of the dense forestry. It was easy enough for Lance to keep track of his team; his visor constantly sending him a stream of data on them, and catching momentary glimpses of white armour amid the deep maroon.

The pirates were a little harder to spot, but that didn't make it impossible. They, for one, didn't have the same communication as team Voltron, meaning they had to screech to each other to be heard.

Unorganised indeed.

But Lance should have known to never underestimate his opponents.

A shot rang out - nothing unusual, seeing as they were in the middle of a battle - followed by a shout of pain.

Lance could recognise that sound anywhere.

"Hunk!" He yelled as he immediately turned in the direction of the shout.

Hunk was sliding down the trunk of a (... Tree? No, Lance didn't have the time to ponder that), clutching at a wound in his leg. The shot had pierced his armour, leaving a bloom of red in its wake.

Rage burned through Lance's core, leaving him somehow cold. Before he had even registered what he was aiming at, Lance had fired his own weapon.

A pirate fell to the ground at Keith's feet, who had his sword raised ready to attack.

Another pirate screeched, and they all pulled into a sloppy retreat.

"Yeah! That'll teach them!" Pidge's voice sounded in Lance's ear.

Keith lowered his sword in confusion, glancing around until he spotted Lance crouched by Hunk's side.

"Pidge, Shiro, meet on Lance and Hunk's point, we have an injury." Keith called into the comms, picking his way through the trees as fast as he could.

Lance breathed in deeply through his nose, releasing it as slow as he dared.

"—ce. Lance!" A hand rested on his shoulder, jarring Lance back to the present. Keith stared down at him in concern. "You all right?"

"I'm fine." Lance bit out, tearing a first aid kit off his belt and pulling out a medpatch.

"It's not- not that bad," Hunk said, though there was a sheen of sweat on his face. Pidge knelt next to him, scanning over his wound.

"You're right, but you can't walk on it." She said, reading the data as it showed up on her visor. "Shiro, I think it'd be best for you to get Hunk back to the Castle. I'm definitely not strong enough help, sorry."

"I'll warn Allura and Coran, get a pod set up." Keith said, before running in the direction of his Lion.

Lance busied himself with patching up Hunk's leg, back turned on Pidge and Shiro. He caught Hunk's eye momentarily, the yellow Paladin giving him a knowing look through his pain.

"It's fine," Lance mumbled, rocking back on his heels. "We need to get back."

* * *

 

Lance should have known Shiro would corner him. He hadn't moved away from Hunk's pod, sitting with his back against it as he waited for his best friend to be released.

His legs still felt like jelly, but now for completely different reasons, the workout from this morning mostly forgotten.

"You handled yourself well today," Shiro commented as he dropped down to sit opposite Lance. Lance frowned, turning his gaze away.

"Thanks." He muttered, unsure if it was a compliment or an observation. Shiro pulled out two juice packets, offering one to Lance.

Lance took it, taking a long sip. He still avoided Shiro's gaze, instead focusing on a mark on the floor.

It was silent for a minute, the only sound being the crinkling of the juice packets.

"I've been meaning to ask," Shiro said, just as Lance was going to go mad from the silence. "Where did you learn to shoot like that?"

Lance hesitated. "The Garrison;" He bluffed, attempting to look casual as he leaned against Hunk's pod. "It's a military school, Shiro. We get firearms lessons."

Shiro hummed in agreement. "But we both know that's not where you learnt."

Lance flinched.

"No military school teaches a shooting style like that, and certainly not the Garrison." He continued, taking a sip of his juice and shrugging. "You have a more natural shot, like you've been shooting for years. I can see the difference in how you hold your shoulders."

"You can?" Lance looked up, finally meeting Shiro's eyes. Shiro nodded.

"I noticed when you got your bayard, actually. But I've never had the chance to bring it up."

"Guess now was the time..." Lance ducked his head again, finding Shiro's gaze unnerving.

"You're handling your first kill better than I thought you would," Shiro said after a moment, and Lance was unable to stop the bitter laugh that spilled out of his mouth.

"Not the first." He said, and Shiro's face flashed with concern. He didn't respond, waiting for Lance to continue.

Lance played with his juice packet, watching the liquid slosh around. "You'll be the second person I've told this to." He said eventually.

"Hunk?"

"Nah, he was there for most of what happened, and for what he wasn't, Mami told him." He was still playing with the packet, twisting the straw between his fingers. "He didn't even ask, my Mami always likes to overshare."

He paused in his fiddling, the pod cold against his back. He chewed his bottom lip, trying to find a way to begin.

"If you don't want to tell me, I won't push you-" Shiro began, but Lance stopped him.

"I think you deserve to know. And if Keith asks, I'm not gonna hide it from him either."

Shiro nodded slowly. "Alright. Take your time."

Lance went back to chewing his lip, squeezing the juice packet a little in his hand.

"My sister was a victim of gang violence." He said quietly, and he saw Shiro shift a little in the corner of his eye, leaning a little closer.

"She wasn't part of a gang, if that's what you're wondering. It was just a bunch of white boys with guns their dads hadn't locked away properly."

"So what happened?"

"We lived in one of the dodgier parts of town," Lance said. "My abuela and abulito were immigrants, and they didn't speak English, so a lot of the people wanted us gone. You know the usual, 'get out of our country, stop stealing our jobs!'" He snorted lightly.

"I'm sorry to hear this."

"Doesn't change the fact that it happened," Lance replied. "I was bullied a lot in school, but we were a big family. You mess with one of us, at least six others would be there to back you up. Besides, it wasn't as bad as some people had it."

He paused, drinking the rest of his juice and tossing the packet to the side, straw still in between his teeth. He chewed it for a moment, before twisting it in his fingers. "As I said, a lot of people wanted us gone. Veronica and Marco came home with bleeding knuckles and black eyes more often than not. They were always the first to throw punches."

"Were you?" Shiro asked.

Lance smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I've knocked out a few teeth in my years."

"So was it Veronica?"

"No, Veronica's alive, thankfully. She's married with two kids. It was my sister Carmina. She was sixteen."

Shiro let out a sharp breath. "Lance, I—"

"I don't want your pity." Lance interrupted, shaking his head. He flicked the straw away, clenching his fists. "I was stupid back then. I said a lot of things I regret, and did a lot more. She took the blame most of the time, for all of us. Carmina was everyone's protector.

"And so they beat her up every chance they could get. Behind the school, in alleyways. The back aisle of service stations, they even once got the jump on her in a McDonalds."

"Did she ever fight back?" Shiro set down his juice, having been holding it useless for several minutes.

"Plenty of times. But you know, one girl against a bunch of guys, most of them on the school's football team. Not a good matchup. Marco generally came to her aid, the two of them were really close."

He slouched forwards. "But I was the idiot. I picked a fight with a kid in my class, and he went to his older brother about it."

"And he..?"

"Yeah. Drove to our place and shot her, right in the front yard. We all watched, unable to do anything else."

Lance's words were met with stunned silence.

"You- you blame yourself." It wasn't posed as a question, but lance shook his head.

"I blame the bastard that killed her." He said. "He claimed it was a statement - meant to scare us off. It didn't work, but none of us spoke up after that."

"Then why did you say it wasn't your first kill?"

"With Carmina gone, someone had to take her place as the protector. I guess it was me. I started carrying a knife to school. I wasn't going to let anyone hurt me or my family again."

"So--"

"When the same bastard came for Marco, saying we should have listened to him the first time, I picked up a gun and shot him in the face."

Lance brought a knee to his chest, resting his chin on it. "And I don't regret it, not one bit."

"Was that the first time you held a gun?"

"Far from it. Carmina's the one who taught me to shoot. We used to try and hit rabbits and old tin cans in the summer, it was our thing. Not even Marco came with us. So I killed him with Carmina's weapon, bringing it in a full circle."

Shiro gaped at him for a bit, trying to find words to say. "I uh... I think you're justified." He finally said.

"I wish it wasn't."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I got away with it. Not entirely, there was a lot of problems after that. We had to move states, schools, everything. But I wasn't put in Juvie or anything."

"How?"

Lance gave Shiro a bitter smile at the question. "How do you think I met Hunk? His mom's a child lawyer. It took years, but we made it through."

Lance sniffed, pressing the heel of his palm into his eye, stemming the tears threatening to make an appearance. "And now we're in space fighting a war and it's all too familiar. And sometimes... sometimes I realise that- that maybe I shouldn't have blamed him. We were all just trying to survive. He was raised that way, just as I was raised to take no shit from anyone."

He took a shaky breath, rubbing at his eye again. "I know I shouldn't blame him for it, but..." Lance trailed off, searching for the right words. "But I can't shake off the years of doing that. We were just stupid kids. He didn't deserve it. Carmina didn't deserve it. But I don't regret it, and sometimes I feel awful because of it."

"I understand what you mean," Shiro said quietly, and Lance sniffled again. "And you can't change the past."

"I know that, Shiro." Lance's voice was thick, and he swiped at his eyes again. "I know, I know, I know."

Shiro nodded to Hunk's pod. "But not all of the past is bad. You were the first to react to Hunk's injury, and I think you saved Keith too. He said that he almost didn't see him until it was too late."

He referring to the pirate, Lance gathered.

"You fight hard for those you love, and you care for everyone so much. Don't change that."

Lance blinked back tears, moving to bury his face in his knee. He let out a quiet sob, and Shiro leaned forwards to rest a hand on his shoulder.

"You fought well today, Lance," he said "and maybe I'm not going the right way about this, but I think Carmina would be proud of how far you've come."

Lance was quiet outside of a few sobs breaking free from his throat, but he nodded against his leg.

"C-Carmina..." Lance got out between his tears "Carmina wanted to- wanted to join the Garrison, she had her application forms f-filled out and everything."

"You mean..." Shiro said slowly, realisation dawning on him.

Lance made a quiet noise of confirmation. "She wanted to go to space."

Shiro squeezed Lance's shoulder, unable to find the words to express his thoughts.

"I remember she told me once that we're all stardust, so she's out here now, somewhere in the universe." Lance sniffed, but his tears had stopped now, instead replaced by determination. "And I'm going to follow her dreams because they were taken away from her."

He stared up at Shiro, a tiny smile pulling at his mouth. "So I'm going to keep on fighting."

"That's all I can ask," Shiro responded, squeezing Lance's shoulder once more.

"So uh-" Lance coughed awkwardly, pulling away to lean back against the pod behind him. "I'm going to wait until Hunk's out. I could use one of his hugs."

"Don't let me keep you, then," Shiro said, pulling himself to his feet. He made to leave, and Lance called after him.

"Hey, Shiro?" He said, voice still a little thick from his tears.

"Yes, Lance?"

"Thanks."

Shiro smiled softly. "Anytime."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wheeeeeeeeeeee


	5. Shiro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol THANKYOU For reminding me I never actually finished this....

The Champion rocked himself gently in the cell, the other prisoners giving him a wide berth as he muttered and whimpered under his own breath.

They ignored him, instead focusing on wiping the blood from their skin as best they could, patching up their own wounds as the human prisoner cowered in the corner.

He would get over it.

They always did.

The Champion stared down at the blood that bathed his hands, glowing purple in the dim lighting of the shared cell.

Screaming that was hours old still filled his head as he watched his opponent fall over and over in a continuous loop, killed by his own hands.

The piercing of soft flesh. The screams of the wounded piercing his skull.

The the sudden, unnatural silence as warm blood flooded from the wound, coating hands.

The Champion whimpered once more, folding in on himself as he resumed his rocking.

The others only spared him passing glances before continuing their own tasks.

He would get over it.

They always did.

None of them spared the Champion pitying looks. They had never received them, so why should they give them?

There was one thing that was common knowledge to the prisoners:

Taking a life was hard, no matter the circumstance. The first kill was always the hardest.

He would get over it or he would die.

They always did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But now I bet you wished i hadn’t! >:D

**Author's Note:**

> :'3


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